


Tell Me How You Really Feel

by Forgetticus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dirty Talk, M/M, One Shot, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 18:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11236320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgetticus/pseuds/Forgetticus
Summary: Draco goes into the forest to find Harry Potter while the trio is hunting for horcruxes.“I’ll happily tell you anything you want to know,” Draco said, trying to sound calm. “But if you just want to punish me, Harry, you know I can’t stop you.”





	Tell Me How You Really Feel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bottseveryflavorbeans_jrayoh23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottseveryflavorbeans_jrayoh23/gifts).



> ^^This little one-shot was born from a prompt. 
> 
> Prompt: Even before Draco said it, he regretted it, but he knew Harry had to hear it. He needed Harry to understand why.  
> Include: Rough sex & dirty talk. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Draco snapped into consciousness.

It was still dark, and the damp pine smell of the Forest of Dean tinged the air inside the charmed tent. He was laying on a thin cot, still dressed in the black suit he’d run off in.

Draco tilted his jaw up to ease an unknown pain...something was pressing into his neck. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he saw the outline of a man fill with distinguishable features. Harry Potter was leaning over his supine form holding a wand to Draco's throat.

“Why did you come here?” Harry asked in a clear, concise voice.

Draco avoided Harry’s penetrating gaze.

“To help you find the horcruxes, you prat. What are you doing...where are Weasley and Granger?” Draco replied indignantly. He felt around for his wand, but it wasn’t there.

“They sent me in here to torture and interrogate you...which I'm actually going to do if you don't start answering my questions a little nicer,” Harry remarked.

Draco tensed as he felt Harry’s wand trace a line down his torso to his hip. His dress pants, socks and shoes disappeared into a soft, shimmering puff of air.

Draco closed his eyes and willed his cock not to react. He taught Harry that spell.

The brunette pulled off his own shirt and kicked off his trainers and socks.

“Draco, don't look so worried. Hermione wanted to send Ron, but I insisted on coming myself. I thought he might do some real damage.”

Harry tucked his wand into the waist of his jeans. He put one knee on the cot, and then the other. The blonde eyed Harry cautiously and remained still as Harry climbed casually between his thighs. Draco’s legs trembled as he resisted his muscle memory response to spread himself out for the other boy.

When Hogwarts was intact, he and Harry had spent the better part of two years shagging in every empty classroom, dark corridor and unused broom closet they could find. They had fallen into a secret arrangement, a _good_ arrangement in Dracos mind, because Harry had insisted it be based on communication and trust. But when it came time to pick sides, Draco panicked. He left with his father without a word...a calculation that the Malfoy heir had come to regret.

It had been nearly a year since that day, but Draco was sure that Harry hadn't forgotten how he tossed aside the harmony they had so carefully constructed. Draco thought that when he found the trio, Harry might refuse to talk to him, or they'd make a scene. But the dangerously composed look in Harry’s green eyes was even more concerning. Blood pooled in Draco’s groin, and his fingers kept inching closer to Harry’s bare torso.

“I’ll happily tell you anything you want to know,” Draco said, trying to sound calm. “But if you just want to punish me, Harry, you know I can’t stop you.”

The gryffindor exhaled sharply, but did not respond. Instead, Harry leaned down and grabbed his silvery blond hair with one hand, and a fistfull of Draco’s shirt with the other. Draco gasped and rolled his hips involuntarily, but Harry wouldn’t get any closer. The brunette maneuvered Draco onto his hands and knees and settled purposefully behind him.

Harry smelled like dry leaves and burnt wood and Draco breathed him in, intoxicated. Harry’s practiced hands were sliding over his cock and inner thighs, getting reacquainted with everything they had missed over the past year. Draco moaned, but tried not to say anything else. Definitely not Harry's name. Definitely no begging Harry to forgive him for leaving.

The buttons on Draco’s shirt were torn from their threads, and he pressed back into Harry, but his old flame pushed him away, back into the cot. Harry’s hand pressed his neck down, and fingers dug into his pale hips. Draco felt his body clamoring to react, to submit. His muscles burned with the memory of all the times they had done this before.

“Since they think I’m torturing you for information, I am going to have to make you scream a little. Make it sound real...you understand.”

Harry’s voice was reasonable, surgical. A groan tore from Draco’s throat. Harry could always make him scream.

Draco felt the particles of his remaining garments scatter into the air, but he didn't feel exposed with Harry flush against him. The slick skin of Harry’s abdomen pressed into his lower back and the rough denim grazed his thighs. Harry jammed his fingers into Draco’s mouth, and the blond sucked instinctivly.

Without warning, Harry open hand smacked him on the side of his arse. Draco rocked forward and moaned, saliva dripping down his chin. His erection pulsed with the pleasure of it, and he felt his face flush. Harry struck him two more times in the same spot, and Draco cried out around Harry’s insistent fingers.

“You'll have to do better than that,” Harry told him, removing his hand from Draco's panting mouth. He held Draco’s jaw and leaned in next to his ear.

“If Ron isn't satisfied that you're being properly tortured, he’ll come in here and do it himself. Is that what you want?”

Draco's eyes rolled.

“No,” he whispered.

Harry removed his hand and began to tease Draco’s arsehole with his wet fingers. Draco sunk onto his elbows and arched his back, giving Harry as much access as he could manage. Harry pushed inside him and hooked his fingers, sending bright spikes of bliss up Draco’s spine. The blonde shamelessly reached for his own erection and sighed as he worked himself in time with Harry’s movements.

After only a few seconds, Harry pushed his hand away and smacked him again, even harder. Draco shuddered and cried out.

“Louder,” Harry demanded, slapping him again, both back and forehand.

Draco wailed and sobbed, feeling the mounting tension in his prick.

Harry clenched and unclenched his hand. He could not believe that he had Draco Malfoy under him again. _‘So this is temporary insanity’_ he thought, unzipping his jeans and digging his nails into Draco’s hips.

If he really wanted to punish Malfoy, he wouldn’t have convinced Hermione and Ron to let him sleep it off in their camp after they stupefied him. Harry would have sent him away, and not seen him at all.

Harry definitely wouldn’t have snuck into Draco’s tent under false pretenses and lied to his friends, who had no intention of torturing anyone. But there Harry was, hand throbbing, doing everything that Draco liked, trying to remind the stupid Slytherin how well Harry knew him before he walked out without a word.

Harry focused on the blond’s twisting, writhing form. He slowly drove his length into Draco’s wet arsehole, scraping his nails down the blonde's pale hips as he went. Draco made a gargling noise that made the gryffindor’s cock twitch with satisfaction.

“Maybe I should get Ron,” Harry commented in a throaty drawl. Rivulets of sweat dripped down his chest and abdomen as he pumped into Draco. The slytherin was chanting a chorus of _fuck oh fuck_ as Harry slammed into that sweet spot inside him.

“I think he would love the sight of you being fucked like the slut you are. Maybe I’ll let him use your mouth…”

Draco reached for himself again, but Harry slapped away his hand. Draco sobbed in protest.

Harry smacked him mercilessly on the arse, back and forth in rapid succession.

“Don't. You. Fucking. Dare.”

Draco screamed as Harry thrashed him. His eyes watered and he couldn’t believe how turned on he was. He hadn’t been fucked like this in ages, hadn’t felt the intimacy of it all, and how had he gone on without it? How had he gone on without Harry?

Harry was breathing ragged now, drilling Draco right into the cot. Harry was so close, he couldn’t stand to deny Draco any longer. He wrapped a slick palm around the blond’s leaking cock and landed another fierce blow on his reddened arse.

Draco’s screams tore through the tiny tent, and Harry prayed to any listening deity that his silencing charm held strong. But his prayers stopped short as Draco convulsed around him, sending bright halos exploding behind his eyes and suddenly Harry was deep, deep, down, and he forgot that he needed to breath to survive, needed anything other than Draco to survive.

And, really, who gives a fuck if everyone hears them because Harry felt like he was coming up from the bottom of the ocean or falling out of a dream, and just as suddenly he drew in a sharp breath and...there he was, on planet Earth, gasping for breath on top of Draco Malfoy.

Possibly his favorite place in the universe.

Harry fell over onto his back, chest heaving and sweat dripping from every pore. Draco rolled on his side next to him and groaned as he did so.

“You said you would tell me anything I wanted to know,” Harry panted.

Draco nodded, and ran a hand over his flushed face.

“Why did you leave like that?”

Draco closed his eyes and felt his pulse flutter. Did he have it wrong all this time? Harry sounded hurt...not angry.

_Did he just do that to me, or for me?_

He was silent for several minutes until both boys felt their breathing slowly return to normal. When Draco finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“I..I couldn’t bear to see you, Harry. I was afraid I would follow you anywhere.”

Even before Draco said it, he regretted it, but he knew Harry had to hear it. He needed Harry to understand why.

A small smile crept across the gryffindors face.

“Then I found out where you were, and I couldn’t turn you over. And now look at me,” Draco commiserated. “In a godforsaken tent, in the depths of the Dean, traitor to the Dark Lord and destined to be Harry Potter’s whore. I know Trelawny is somewhere crying tears of laughter onto her stupid crystal ball.”

Harry snaked a tentative arm under Draco’s neck, and the blond leaned on it without thinking.

“How about 'boyfriend'?” Harry asked.

Draco’s eyes snapped open.

“What?”

“Forget ‘whore’. Let’s go with ‘boyfriend’,” Harry suggested again.

Draco’s mouth opened, closed, and settled in a suspicious line.

“Did you...miss me?”

“Terribly,” Harry admitted.

“...No one sent you in here to torture me, did they? ”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do Ron and Hermione know about you and I?”

“Let’s tell them in the morning,” Harry said yawning. “In fact, I think Ron will be quite relieved.”

“No kidding,” Draco murmured into Harry’s neck, his eyelids suddenly very heavy.

“Draco,” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to stay...but don't go without saying anything next time.”

The blond threw an arm over Harry’s chest and felt the sweet warmth of sleep embracing him.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

 

\----fin----


End file.
